Floribama Riders

First-time racer's view of Road Atlanta

With all great tragedies, you have to let the emotional healing process complete before the story-telling can begin. I don't go to a therapist, and I have not self-medicated with alcohol lately, so I prescribed a few evenings of crying into my pillow. It's been four nights, and I think I'm about ready.

I thought that by announcing to all my friends that I would run my first race this past weekend that it would motivate me to wrap up the bike maintenance and get on the track. Unfortunately, I neglected to account for an important fact--I have no shame. Since I had not paid any fees, I was content to show up at a race with a half-prepped race bike, working on the bike between races and handling ridicule from my friends. It turned out to be a good dry run where I learned a lot about my vehicles and my character.

Thursday - I found the washer!

You'll recall from my earlier blog post that I lost a washer in the lower bowels of my SV650 motor. I asked for advice on three e-mail lists and received three different recommendations:

Ever thought about getting into racing? Well, if I can do it, so can you. I'm a complete noodlehead with mediocre mechanical abilities. I'm writing this Tuesday, June 10, with just a few days to go until my first WERA race at "Little Tally" aka Talladega Gran Prix Raceway.

Background

I have run 12 track weekends, many of which took place with the Floribama Riders. Also took the Ed Bargy school last year, but I have no race experience. I've got a 1999 SV650 with 82,000 miles, including ride up and down the East Coast a few times, plus one run to Mexico.

I'm still bushed after putting on more than 2,000 miles since Wednesday. Here we go!

Tuesday
Abandoned my original plan to leave Tuesday night, realizing, "Relax, you're on vacation."

Wednesday
Peformed maintenance on the VFR at a leisurely pace, rolled out of Atlanta around noon. Experienced that amazing feeling of departing for a long trip without any responsibilities other than to ride. Felt deja vu in Mississippi as I closed in on Tupelo and Memphis. Ah, Memphis.

Realized somewhere in Arkansas that I had not experienced a new landscape from the seat of a bike in quite a while. I had traveled recently to North Georgia, North Carolina and even northern Florida, but all those places feel kind of like my backyard. Arkansas was different. Even the cows looked different.

Stumbled into the cabin around midnight after getting lost and received a warm welcome. Yay, friendly faces!

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